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About Me

I was born in 1962; you do the math. (See also: I'm too lazy to remember to update this thing regularly.) I bought my first house in the summer of 2009; I share it three cats and with the memories of The Runt and Little Girl, who both passed away in 2011. Rocky, the cat for whom this blog was named, passed away in 2008; I miss them all. I wish I lived somewhere where the winters weren't eight months long; other than that, life is good.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Namely, that I didn't get rid of the incriminating evidence of my teen years long ago. Did you know that cleaning out dresser drawers can yield blog post gold? Behold the following, circa 1978 (click to embiggen):

Hahahahahahaha! Holy crap. Not sure if it's song lyrics or a poem, but then again, does it really matter? In my defense, I was 15 and full of hormones.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

I was looking for a liquid supplement to add to the cats' food to help their fur, which seems really dry and static-y, even with running the humidifier at night. At the local pet stores, I found skin and coat supplements for dogs, rabbits, and ferrets .... but no cats.

So I bought the ferret meds. I mean, how big a difference can there be? They're both small mammals with fur. And the ingredients for the ferret stuff seem similar to the stuff for cats sold on line, so no harm done, right?

If they start to grow weaselly noses and develop beady eyes, I'll know I picked the wrong stuff.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

1. When You Are Engulfed In Flames by David Sedaris. I had read most of these stories other places, and the way he blurs the fiction/non-fiction line drives me nuts, but this is still an entertaining read.

2. Thunderhead by Mary O'Hara - Novel about a boy and his horse. I remembered this as being a kids' book, but, um ....... no. Lots of bad stuff happens and his parents almost split up, so I guess it's not really a kids' book. I enjoyed this one. Hmmmm.

3. Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham - Interesting, but I got so tired of Philip not being able to make up his mind - I just wanted to reach into the book and shake some sense into him. At least he didn't end up with that horrible Mildred.

5. Cold Rock River by J.L. Miles - Novel about a young mother in the 60s intertwined with the journal of a slave girl in the Civil War - pretty good.

6. The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker - Novel about an extraordinarily large woman - very interesting. It's mainly about the moral choices we make.

7. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz - Novel about a family who moves from the Dominican Republic to New Jersey. It started out really good, but after a while the writing just seemed gimmicky to me. I skimmed through the last half of the book, which is embarrassing, because after all, it did win the Pulitzer Prize. Still, I'd have to give it a "meh".

8. The Family on Beartown Road by Elizabeth Cohen. Don't make the same mistake I did and assume that this is a sequel to The House on Beartown Road - it's not - it's the same book, evidently re-issued under a different name. Still, it's an interesting memoir about raising a toddler and taking care of a father with Alzheimer's at the same time.

And finally, three that I started and gave up on within the space of an hour:

Tis the Season by Lorna LandvikBig Stone Gap by Adriana TrigianiMiss Julia Hits the Road by Ann B. Ross

All three of these looked like light, interesting books, and I particularly like Lorna Landvik's stuff, but I picked up each one of these, read a few pages, and put them right back down. I've been trying to think why each of these was so unenjoyable, and I think it comes down to a lack of subtlety; these books hit you over the head with their Charming! Plots! and their Eccentric!Characters! and their Funny! Dialogue! and ........... blech. Of course, that's just my humble opinion.

So! I went to the dentist this morning. The cleaning went fine, but then she started looking at my x-rays and decided that there was a filling that really should be drilled out and re-done, at a cost of two-hundred-and-forty-five dollars. On top of the $145 I spent for the cleaning, and the additional $200 I ponied up to have a new nightguard made.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

It's so cold that on Saturday, for the first time since 2005, the Almost-Annual NYS Crappie Derby will be held at the Whitney Point Reservoir.

You see, the Crappie Derby is an ice-fishing tournament, and because they get around a thousand people attending, the organizers insist on at least twelve inches of ice on the lake. It's been four years since the last time there was enough ice on the lake to hold the derby. But all is well in Whitney Point, because there's PLENTY of ice this year.

And I'm not even gonna talk about the six to twelve inches of snow expected tonight and tomorrow. Jeezus, get me on a plane out of here, someone!

Oh, and what's a Crappie, you ask? Around these parts, it's pronounced "croppie", I assume so that newscasters don't split their pants every time they have to say it on air, and it's ...... a fish. I'm pretty sure it's a fish, anyway. Kind of like a sunfish. I think.

Monday, January 26, 2009

I have to go to the dentist later this week for a six-month check-up and cleaning. Per usual, my teeth are already starting to ache.

You see, my dentist and her hygienists follow a "good cop/bad cop" routine, except it's more like, "good visit/bad visit". On one visit, all will go fine. No problems, no catastrophes, everything looks fine, see you in six months. And on the next visit, it's all, "Oh NOES, you have pockets! And that could lead to periodontal disease! And what the hell is this ......... SOUND THE ALARM!! Ah-OOO-ga!! Ah-OOO-ga!!"

My last visit was a "good" visit. Which means I have to steel myself for gloom and doom on this upcoming visit. But! I am learning. I'm wise to their tactics. When they start in with their "your-teeth-will-all-fall-out-if-you-don't-give-us-two-grand-RIGHT-NOW" routine, I just say, "you know what? I'm kind of short on disposable income just now. Let's wait for the NEXT visit and see how things look then."

"Cat Dancers" is a documentary about a big-cat act, the type seen in Vegas. And I found it absolutely fascinating. I really don't know how to go into details without giving stuff away, but it's just really, really interesting. It's showing on HBO right now, if you want to catch it.

I felt the same way about "Hancock" that a lot of other reviewers did - the beginning is great; the ending not so much. But the first hour is really entertaining. And I will watch anything Will Smith is in, mainly because of that scene in "I Am Legend" where he is doing chin-ups with his shirt off, and .............. oh, never mind. So I highly recommend the first hour of "Hancock", and it's only ninety minutes long, so I guess that's a two-thirds positive review.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

In President Obama's inauguration speech on Tuesday, he said, "We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers."

Now, I don't know if he wrote that line, or if it was one of his speechwriters, but I would like to thank whoever wrote it for including "non-believers".

Because I am a non-believer.

I was raised a Presbyterian, and I was quite active in the church when I was a teenager. I was married in the church. But some time after high school, in my late teens, I just .... stopped attending every Sunday. I don't remember why; I certainly wasn't a "non-believer" at that point. And eventually, in my thirties, I started thinking a bit more about religion. And wondering what, exactly, I did believe.

I'm sometimes a little fuzzy on what I do believe, but I now know what I don't believe: I don't believe in God. I can't. I've tried. I wish I believed in God; I imagine it could be enormous comfort to me at times. But I don't believe in God, any more than I believe in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. I believe that God was made up, and the Bible was written, to keep people in line. No more and no less. To ensure that people would stay on the straight and narrow, because "God'll get ya for that" if you don't.

So thank you, President Obama, for including "non-believers" in your speech. Although actually, if you had decided to include everybody, it would have been a much longer speech. ".... Jews and Hindus, Rastafarians and Janeists, Wiccans and Methodists and Sun God Worshippers and ..... "

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Watching the inauguration yesterday, when they showed Dick Cheney in a wheelchair with a cane across his lap, all I could think of was that old Saturday Night Live skit of the supposed "alternate ending" to It's a Wonderful Life, where George Bailey and an angry mob of townspeople stormed Mr. Potter's house, dumped him out of his wheelchair, and kicked the living daylights out of him.

And I wasn't alone; some of my co-workers were snickering about how the White House aides should just eschew the wheelchair ramp, find a nice long set of stairs, and give the chair a little nudge.

It looks like I'm not going to get the house I put an offer on. The first buyer finally came through with financing, which knocks me out of the picture.

But! It's okay. My realtor told me to take heart, that they will find the right house for me. And like Bridgett said, down the road, when I find the perfect place, I will be very glad that I didn't get this one. You'd better be right about that, Bridgett!! (kidding!)

"....... geez, I sure hope he doesn't end up with a bullet in his head."

It's AWFUL, I know, and I feel horrible for even THINKING it, but if there's anybody in the world with a bigger target on his back right now, I don't know who it is, except maybe Osama bin Laden.

So there it is, I blurted it out, and I am hoping that all the security will protect him and his family today and always. I can't imagine what it must be like to know that you are a target. That people literally want to kill you. And that sometimes, they succeed.

Now that it's cold out and the ground is snow-covered, the cats are not spending nearly as much time outside. They'll go out for a few minutes, then come charging right back in. Snoozing occupies some of their time:

But pretty soon, boredom sets in. One of them will pounce on the other, and they're off to the races.

Bif! Pow! Bam! They like to try and bowl each other over. And while Little Girl is smaller than The Runt, she still manages to hold her own in the butt-whupping department:

Monday, January 19, 2009

My sister, Texas, sent me a beautiful watch for Christmas (among other things) (Thanks, Texas!). The only problem was that I couldn't work the clasp, which was one of those that requires a small piece to be held open while threading it through another piece. I couldn't do it one-handed, and the cats don't have opposable thumbs, so they couldn't help me out.

So I took the beautiful watch to a local jewelry-repair place, to see if they could put on a different kind of fastener. And the jewelry-repair guy, who was actually kind of creepy, not that that has anything to do with anything, asked me to attempt to put on the watch, so he could see where the problem was.

I flopped my right hand down on the display counter, wrapped the watch around my right wrist with my left hand, and tried to fasten the clasp. And tried. And tried. And finally the guy said, "Wait a minute. Are you right-handed or left-handed?" And I said, "right-handed". And he said, "You're right-handed, and you wear your watch on your right wrist? Why?" And I said, "Because I've always worn my watch on the right wrist!" And he was all, "Well, that's unusual! You're supposed to wear your watch on your non-dominant hand." But he was nice about my apparent deformity, and we tried a different clasp, which I still couldn't fasten, and right now the watch is at the jewelry-repair place while he tries to find a clasp that I can actually use.

Here's the thing: Am I doing it wrong? Because honestly, I can't imagine wearing a watch on my left wrist. When I look down, I look to the right, so the watch goes on my right wrist. Am I strange?

Friday, January 16, 2009

The other day, The Bloggess was talking about how dogs don't have bellybuttons. (I was going to link to the post, but I'm fairly certain that The Bloggess doesn't need any linkie-love help from me.)

And then I got thinking, hey, wait a minute, my cats don't have bellybuttons either. And then I thought, well, maybe they do, but I just can't see them because of the whole fur thing. And then I thought, no, they shaved Little Girl's stomach when they spayed her, and I'm certain I didn't see any bellybutton when I removed her stitches.

And then I was all, like, why don't dogs and cats have bellybuttons? Whhhyyyyyyy?

So I went to ask.com, and according to commenters on varous sites, dogs and cats DO have bellybuttons; they're just not as obvious as ours, and harder to see.

And I am hoping against hope that I will not get bored enough to start searching my cats for their bellybuttons tonight, but given the bored-ness level around my place lately, which alternates with moments of sheer terror regarding a possible house purchase, I really can't rule anything out.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Waiting to see if the original buyer's offer holds up. (Doesn't look likely; he's had, like, sixty days now and still can't come up with financing.)

Waiting to see if the seller will accept my first offer. (Also not likely; the original buyer's offer was for full purchase price, and I'm coming in at twenty percent less than that.)

Waiting to see if the seller is willing to drop his price. (Possible, but not likely; the house had only been on the market for a few weeks when he got the first offer for full purchase price.)

I've already decided I'm not going to offer full purchase price. Not on this property. But now, of course, I'm second-guessing myself, and thinking, "maybe I should put in an offer for full purchase price", and then I'm all like, "No! Think of all the trees that will have to be removed! Think of the one bedroom! Think of the one closet!"

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

I put an offer on a house this morning. I lowballed it, leaving room to negotiate, but an offer has indeed been made. And now all I can think of is, "Holy shit, what if they take the offer? I'll be buying a house!" Indeed.

This place sits on a little bit of land, toward the end of a dead end street. There is a utility right-of-way next to the property, so no one would be able to build next to this property on that side. The neighbors' house on the other side sits back in from the street, a couple of hundred feet behind this property. And there is a hill in back of the property. There is a big shed out back, which would be helpful for storage, as the house itself is only eight hundred square feet.

The place obviously needs some work, and there is only one closet in the entire house, but at least it has plenty of electrical outlets, unlike some I've looked at.

It's got a good sized kitchen.

So! Here we go! This place is already under contract, so I probably won't get it, but at least now I know there are things out there I can afford. The big (HUGE) selling point with this one is that the taxes are roughly half of those of the other houses I've looked at, because it's just over the line into the next county.

It's on a quiet road and has a little bit of land (1.8 acres). The road dead-ends a few houses past this place, so there'd be little traffic.

There's a large (9 x 32) shed out back with electrical service that I could use for storage.

It's just the right size - I could afford to heat it in the winter.

It has washer and dryer hookups, and comes with a washer and dryer, albeit ancient ones.

It's not a kabillion years old, like some of the stuff I looked at.

There's no creaky basement (just a crawlspace), so I don't have to worry about basement flooding. The furnace and water heater are in a room off the bathroom and easily accessible.

There's a deck! A beautiful deck that wraps around two sides of the house.

The house across the road is in nice shape, and the house next door is huge and beautiful, so I probably don't have to worry about trailer trash next door.

The electrical service has been updated, and there's tons of outlets.

There is overhead lighting in all the rooms, and ceiling fans in the living room and kitchen.

The living room has a wooden floor, albeit one that would have to be refinished.

There's a brick barbeque thingie in the backyard.

I could move all the plants from my current place in the spring, and have an instant garden. And I could put in more gardens! All the gardens I want.

Well and septic means no municipal water bill every quarter.

It's close enough to work so I wouldn't have a long commute. (For the record, it's fifteen miles and twenty minutes from the office.)

This little house gives off a good vibe. I could be happy there.

Minuses:

There are some huge pine trees, some of which are already dead, in between the house and the shed. These would have to come down pronto, and that's very expensive.

The last quarter-mile or so of road to the house was not very well plowed this morning, although I managed to get up and down it with no problem.

There is a large hill directly behind the property, and a small creek at the bottom of the hill. I don't know if runoff from heavy rains or snowmelt could cause that creek to flood.

There is no garage or carport.

There is only one closet, and not really a lot of room in the bedroom to put in another one, although I could put one in the kitchen.

There is always a possibility that a developer could buy the land at the end of the road and put in some monstrous housing development.

I'm not sure if there's an outdoor hose spigot.

I would have to learn how to use a lawn mower, although really, at 46, I think it's about damn time. (true of any house)

I would have to shovel the driveway, and the end of the driveway where the road plows dump the snow, in the winter. (true of any house)

There are no streetlights on this section of the road.

Well and septic means possible well and septic repairs, although I will have these inspected.

I would have to move in the dead of winter, which is no fun at all.

That's all I can think of for now. I'll probably be adding to this as time goes on, or until the holders of the first contract cough up some money, at which point it'll all be moot. I keep telling myself that either way, it's all okay, that if I don't get this one, something I like even better will come along. Keep telling myself that ........

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

....... The boss goes out of town, and dumps a bunch of stuff on my lap of which I had no prior knowledge, expecting me to handle it.

Today, for example, I had to make a decision about spending $8,400.00 in advertising for a business of which my boss is a managing partner. And I had to make the decision in, like, thirty seconds, because my boss had already dicked around with this thing for so long that now it was up against a firm deadline (which he KNEW before he dumped it on me and took off). And I couldn't call one of the other partners, because my boss had said that HE would handle it. And I couldn't get ahold of my boss, because he left his cell phone in the car in the airport parking lot.

Mamma mia, indeed. What a piece of shit. I mean, I love Abba just as much as the next person, and that's why I wanted to see this movie. For some reason, I thought that the actors would be lip-synching to actual Abba recordings, which would have been awesome. Instead, the actors were doing their own singing (or someone was singing for them, not sure), and it was horrible. Awful. A desecration of Abba, if you will.

And please understand, I love musicals. West Side Story? A classic. As a little kid, I was thrilled when they'd show The Sound Of Music on tv. And "1776" is one of my favorite movies ever.

Truthfully, I can't really review Mamma Mia, because I could only tolerate about twenty minutes before I had to pop out the DVD. It was that, or shit and go blind, because this was one stinker of a movie.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Yesterday, I finally took down my Christmas tree. (I know, I KNOW.) I dragged it out to the curb for the town to come and pick up.

Here's a weird thing: While the town, technically, will come around eventually and pick up the trees, they almost never pick up MY tree. Because there is some guy with a pickup who comes around and gets my tree, and those of my neighbors, before the town comes. I know; I've seen him tree-nabbing. And I've always kind of wondered what he did with the trees; shredded them and used them for mulch, I figured.

Yesterday, I looked out the window not fifteen minutes after I put the tree to the curb, and it was already gone. "Wow", I thought, "that dude was fast this year!" But then I looked a little further, across the street to my neighbor's house, and there was my tree, inserted into a snowbank so it looked like it was growing there. And then I noticed a couple more new pine trees in my neighbor's yard; evidently their teenage kids had decided to do a little exterior decorating, which is way cool.

I just wonder what they're going to do with the trees when the snow melts; call the tree-nabber, maybe.

Here's an idea of how bad the local housing market is: When my Realtor and I went looking at houses on Saturday, my mortgage guy came along for the ride. Just, you know, in case I wanted to put an offer on something THAT DAY.

So! That was a hell of a lot of fun. I was amazed to discover how much house I could actually buy (1,400 sq.ft., which is WAY more than I need or want) (this one place had a totally tiled bathroom with a walk-in glass block shower), if I was willing to settle for next-to-no lawn and a sketchy neighborhood. And here's where having grown up here is a help: Some of the neighborhoods we looked at seemed perfectly fine on a cold January afternoon, but I know for a fact they turn into war zones on warm summer nights.

The last place we looked at was out of town a little bit. Even the listing agent called it a dump, which my Realtor explained is like a mother calling her kid ugly. It needed a ton of work, but the square footage and the yard were just right. Now I just need to find one like that, that doesn't need about twenty grand worth of repairs, and I'm all set! Hee.

Oh, and what is up with the lack of closets? I mean, I can understand the scarcity of electrical outlets, because people weren't running nine million electrical doohickeys back in the day, but why are there no closets? Didn't people wear clothes back then?

Friday, January 09, 2009

The debate is raging between my friends and coworkers as to whether a well and septic (which I will have to have if I'm out away from town a little bit) are acceptable.

My coworkers are all, "oh, a well and septic aren't any trouble at all. You just have to replace the well pump every once in a while, and pump out the septic every ten years or so, and that's all there is to it! Nothing to be concerned about."

And my friends are all, "OH MY GOD wells and septic systems are EVIL EVIL EVIL you will go BANKRUPT trying to take care of a well and septic and THEN YOU WILL DIIIIIEEEEEEEE."

I have no idea who's right. I do know that while some people do have problems with their wells and septic systems, surely it can't be as dire as my friends are saying. I also know that you can have the systems tested before you buy. I think I'll ask the Realtor (squeeeee! I have a Realtor!) about it tomorrow.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

I talked to a Realtor at noon today. I have already been pre-qualified for a mortgage and have been e-mailed several houses to look at, and I will probably be looking at houses this weekend. I realize that I may still be looking at houses a year from now, but it's thrilling (and terrifically scary) to know that I'm actually getting started.

So! The FedEx package (a lamp, by the way) was missing, I had filed a police report, and the policeman had asked me to talk to my neighbors to find out if they had seen anything (in other words, DO HIS JOB), and he would stop back the next night to follow up.

P., who lives kitty-corner below me (the one who's getting evicted) wasn't home, so I couldn't talk to him. And after talking to R. upstairs and getting the scoop on the supposed thugs who lived below me, I wasn't about to go knocking on THEIR door. I mean, getting your head blown off over a stolen lamp seems kind of silly.

The policeman came back last night and I filled him in. He said he would go down and talk to the people below me, and go from there. I said, "hey, if you see a Tiffany-style stained glass floor lamp down there, let me know!" He laughed and said he would, and left.

Two minutes later, there's a knock on my door. It's the cop, WITH MY LAMP. Still in the box. He said the guy downstairs told him that FedEx had left the package right in front of his door, and that JUST AS THE COP WAS KNOCKING he was planning to find out which apartment I lived in and give me my lamp.

The cop also told me that the guy was pretty ticked off that I would call the cops on him, and the cop said he explained that I hadn't called the cops ON HIM; I had simply called to report a theft, and the cop was talking to ALL the neighbors, just doing his job.

Not wanting this *thug* to think I had called the cops ON HIM, I went downstairs after the cop left and introduced myself. And this *thug*? Is the nicest guy in the world. I shit you not. He explained that he didn't know which apartment was mine, and was just holding the package until he found out. He told me how he had turned down the bass on his stereo, because he was afraid it might be too loud (yes, it had been too loud). We chatted for a little bit, and now all is well.

But! Some lingering questions remain:

1. Why did R. upstairs describe the new people as intimidating thugs? M. downstairs seems very nice, and according to him (M), he lives alone. M. also said that he hadn't been around the back of the building yet, and that's why he didn't know how to get to my apartment (stairs in back). So who were the people R. saw "lurking around"?

2. Why did M. hold my package for a DAY AND A HALF, days on which both he and I were home in the morning and evening? Why did he even take it inside his apartment in the first place, once he looked at the label and saw that it wasn't addressed to him?

3. When the cop brought the lamp upstairs, the package had been opened, and the instructions had been taken out of their plastic sleeve and laid on top of the rest of the contents. Why?

Is a mystery ................. The good news is the lamp is back, and the new guy is not an "intimidating thug". But I'm still looking for a Realtor.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

........ filed a police report on the FedEx package that someone stole off my back porch yesterday.

Now, I'm not accusing anyone (OH YES I AM), but I was talking to my upstairs neighbor R last night, and he said that the people who moved in below me (whom I have not yet met, although I've heardplenty from them) are, quote, "thugs" who were "lurking around the building" and "intimidating him", and if the landlord didn't get rid of them , he was going to move.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

I've been looking for a new kitchen table for a few years now. I knew what I wanted - the farmhouse style, with a natural-finished wood top and white legs. Look what I found at a thrift store last weekend for twenty-five bucks!:

Is beautiful, no? (No, the legs aren't wonky. It's just the angle from which the pic was taken.) (I'm always trying to explain my crappy pics - I really need to take a class or something.) The only problem was getting it home. The guys at the thrift store took off two of the legs so we could angle it into the car, and I took the other two legs off at home so I could get it through the door. Success!

Oh, and I gave my old kitchen table, which was given to me by friends almost twenty years ago when I left my (then) husband, to my new upstairs neighbor, who hasn't moved his stuff up from the City yet and needed a table.

Pretty, pretty table. Finally, after years of searching, I have found you.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Sorry, but there it is. I think my liver may have attempted suicide at some point over the weekend. I'll be back as soon as I don't feel like hurling all over the keyboard. Oh, and speaking of hurling(!), here's an overhead shot of my secret dessert shame: